


A Pack Of Two

by NestPlaster



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), WolfCop (2014)
Genre: All He Wanted Was A Coffee, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, Bodily Fluids, Drink'n'Shoot, Enthusiastic Consent, Excessive Drinking, Handcuffs, Implied Mpreg, Imprinting, M/M, Mpreg, Pheromones, Police Brutality, Prison Shower, Scents & Smells, Small Towns, Werewolves, pushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2019-10-26 00:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17735783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestPlaster/pseuds/NestPlaster
Summary: AU; a simpler time, some decades past. Scott McCall finds himself a drifter without a pack, trying to get through the next day and the next town while he searches for what comes next. Of course, they got to push on him.





	1. Hope

It was another chill day, with low clouds that only grudgingly acknowledged the sun with a diffuse light that left the world feeling flat and grey. Scott McCall hunched his shoulders forward against the cold, more out of habit than necessity -- he didn't really feel the cold like he used to -- and trudged forward along the mountain highway, punctuating the slow passage of time with clouds of breath.

The sign marking the city limits read Hope, and perched on a low post just ahead of the curve of iron marking a short bridge crossing a mountain river. Scott looked up at the flaking blue paint coating the iron as he thudded across the weathered wooden deck. Worn and faded, but still standing strong.

It wasn't long after that the cop car rolled up along side McCall, slowing to an idle with the window down. Scott had heard all the questions before and answered safely but vaguely. What did it matter where he was heading anyways, once he got a warm coffee and a slice of pie. The offer of a ride made the hair on his neck stand up just a bit, stiff in the cold, but there wasn't a good way to say no. Better to ride in the front, anyways.

"So where you heading?" the sheriff asked. His town was conversational but Scott could smell the tension in the air. The mans scent carried his hostility even if his voice was calm, pheromones betraying a readiness for conflict and anger.

"Portland" Scott answered, keeping his answer vague and distant. He wasn't staying here but that didn't seem to be enough to settle down the law here. "You got some place I can eat around here?" asked Scott in an attempt to close out the conversation and give a definite end point to the ride.

"There's a diner about thirty miles up the highway" came the answer. The sheriff was keeping his tone level, and while the speed of the car remained steady and modest they were already hitting the end of the main strip in the town. Scott could feel his blood warming, his senses sharpening. The inside of the car felt too small, the cop too close.

"Why you pushing me?" he asked in reply, and from there it was all he could do to hold the building rage in until he escaped the car some miles up the highway. The lecture was more felt than heard, the words making less of an impact than the emotional antagonism pressing against him. Scott inhaled deeply of the mountain air when his feet hit the shoulder of the highway again.

When he looked up the car was already spitting gravel as it spun around to head back. The sign still read Hope, but it was facing the other way. Scott was almost ready to press on, to hunt for dinner and to forget about that cup of coffee, but the sheriff couldn't let go. "If you want some friendly advice," came the soft words from inside the car, "get a haircut and take a bath. You wouldn't get hassled so much." 

The car was barely started down the road before Scott found himself turning around and walking steadily back towards town.  


* * *

  
Officer Lou Garou was nursing a hangover at his desk when Teasle punched the door open and shoved the handcuffed man roughly across the threshold of the station, but his head cleared in a moment when he saw the chiseled features of the apprehended. This was quite possibly the most beautiful creature Lou could remember seeing, perhaps had ever seen. Usually when a perp had their head lowered it was in shame or submission; this person made it a predatory look, with eyes glaring out across the room.

When that gaze swept across his desk Lou wasn't sure if he felt like prey, or wanted to feel like prey.

Lou felt swept along as the drifter was booked. It had been a rough year after a series of rough years for Lou, and while he struggled to fit in and do well his stock in the department had lost a lot of value. Sheriff Teasle seemed to have it in for this kid and was calling on his toughest and roughest to perform the booking, and the newcomer was pushing back at every turn. Lou had never seen anything quite like it -- a passive and powerful resistance to even the simplest task. Lou drank up the details in a daze: Shoulders rolling with elegant strength beneath a tattered jacket as he shrugged off an attempt at fingerprinting; the sharp masculine scent of a creature fresh off a long journey through the wilderness; smoldering eyes looking deep into the soul of each and every person attempting to force the process. Violence and rage held back to a deep glowing ember, like an engine at idle ready to roar if only the stoplight would turn green. Teasle was the one who cut the tension loose, sending the man downstairs for new prisoner processing.

Lou had a strong sense that light came close to turning after they took him downstairs for processing. Stripped naked the newcomer -- McCall, he had sullenly given upstairs -- was even more majestic. Toned muscles played beneath taut skin, smooth and almost luminescent save for where it was crossed with scars. Lean but not thin, a frame constructed for speed and built out for power and efficiency. McCall showed no sign of modesty, standing with broad shoulders open and limbs hanging loose but not relaxed, turning slowly when ordered. Lou had never felt less in control standing in a room full of officers guarding one naked prisoner, and his heart jumped when Deputy Sergeant Galt strode forward with his nightstick and dropped McCall to his knees with a well placed hit to the lower back.

"Galt! What the fuck was that?" Lou felt the words tumble out of his mouth without conscious thought, and felt an outsider as the rest of the force turned to look at him. "Well" Galt replied with the hint of a sneer, "the man said clean him up." Galt looked back over his shoulder to the officer holding the hose and calmly continued, "Clean him up."  


* * *

  
As bad as the hose down was, Lou found it replaying in his mind at the bar early that evening as he worked through his second bourbon. If he relaxed his eyes he could see the punishing gout of icy water spraying out of the hose and crashing against the muscles of the back, splashing between the toned buttocks, pushing into that enticing cleft. Even in the moment McCall had looked dangerous, like a cornered animal. Wounded but by no means defeated.

Lou blinked and focused up at the television. The local news was on, reporting on the upcoming Drink'n'Shoot festival. It wasn't until the third gunshot that Lou realized the television was on mute, and by the time he got outside all he could see was Teasle tearing away from the station in a patrol car as a motorcycle vanished up the block.


	2. Strife

Lou did his best to stay at the rear of the group of cops and not be noticed, while staying close enough to definitely be a part of the hunt. The forest air made him nervous these days, since ... that night. Everything smelled a little too sharp and clear, the potent scent of the wet foliage carrying the musky humanity of the hovering policy into his nostrils. A search, they were calling it, but the Sheriff was still pissed about wrecking his car and had called for the best dogs in town. With the Drink'n'Shoot just around the corner they'd be trained up and just a little hungry.

The first screams seemed to come from everywhere at once, sharp and unexpected in the vast wilderness. They echoed off the trees and Lou twitched his ears to pinpoint the sound. "Will, it's Mitch!" came a cry through the brush. Before they could arrive there was another crash of timber and fresh shouts from behind. "He's got Ward" came the judgement with flat intonation, the team not sure yet what to believe or how to react. Teasle ordered the team to spread out and headed off through the brush.

Lou had a feeling they weren't going to find their quarry, but stalked along behind the Sheriff. The cries settled down a bit but did not abate, and Lou smelled blood on the air. Out of the corner of his eye he had the impression of a dark shape moving; fur in the dense foliage. He turned as Teasle took aim and fired but the target was already gone, leaving Mitch to take the bullet in the shoulder. Lou smelled human blood floating like a dream on the damp air of the coming storm, as chaos descended onto the hunt.  


* * *

  
By the time they made it off the hill most of the men were wounded, just enough to be a liability and never enough to kill. Lou felt edgy from all the blood in the air, like his skin was creeping a little under the cool rain of the storm. Teasle had been in a state coming down the hill, muttering phrases to himself -- "don't push it he said..."; "Let it go..."; "He'll give -me- a war?". Lou had seen him like this once or twice before but never this bad. It never meant anything good for whoever got Teasle into this state.

The military had started to roll in as they came off the mountain. By the time they got the wounded men sat down and patched up tents were already thrown up in the gravel lot marking the trail base, and Teasle was already into it with their leader. Lou paced at the edge of earshot. He could only hear the odd word but got enough of the tone of the conversation to know Teasle was settling into a grudge and not going to let any city boy tell him any different. 

When they got onto the radio, he sharp crackle of the squelch cut through him like wire. Lou felt on edge surrounded by all these people, in a crowd but feeling entirely apart from it. Lone and isolated. The military man was calling out to the drifter but not getting much of a response, and Lou let his mind slip out away from the chaos of the moment to reflect on the drifter himself. Rugged and a little tired, like the world had given him a good long tumble, but still radiating life. Those piercing eyes looking out at the world through a lock of hair, seeing everything but giving nothing away. A dangerous look, but also the most handsome man Lou could remember seeing in Hope. The more Lou thought about it, the more he felt the sea of humanity fade into a dull murmur, and the more his mental world collapsed to a picture of the drifter. Those eyes. Looking into his.

"McCall, are you still reading me?" The voice of the military man pulled Lou back towards reality. Lou shook his head and focused on the scene as the men came out of the radio tent.  


* * *

  
Lou can't seem to pull himself away from the parking lot, and then men running the show seem to have learned to avoid him. It was almost as if they were unconsciously uncomfortable with his presence, and it felt natural when they created a little space and kept him in the corner of their eye. By dusk Lou was feeling bold enough to slip into the radio tent and take advantage of the camp slowing down.

"Offic... Lou Garou," opened Lou as he keyed up the radio, "calling McCall. Or they call you McCall?" Lou felt a little ridiculous speaking into the night, but also felt a tenuous but powerful connection snaking up the mountain towards the drifter. An image of the paperwork from the office flashed before his minds eye and he carefully asked "Talk to me... Scotty?"

Lou felt a tightness in his chest like he was swelling to burst with emotion when the reply came thin across the air. The sound was thin, like it had pressed through and lost some of itself in the journey, but that emotional connection sung as it was pulled taut like a steel cable. Lou felt like that voice was the entire world as they exchanged tentative words looking for common ground, and was flooded with gratitude when they seemed to find nothing but. It seemed like both a lifetime talking and the slightest passing moment when the radio was clicked off by the thick finger of Will Teasle.

"He's all finished" said the sheriff, "but we got a real good fix on him. Come first light I'm gonna put every man I've got up on that ridge."

Lou looked him in the eyes and knew he would face a reckoning, but not until this was finished. One way or another.  


* * *

  
Come dawn Lou found himself racing up the mountain. Despite the leaden weight in his belly from learning the guard had set out already he felt like his calves and thighs were rising to the occasion, swelling up hard against his slacks and propelling him through the brush like he was strolling between the desks back at the station. Instinct pulled him up higher and higher, until the harsh odor of gunpowder let him take a more precise trajectory.

He crested a rise and saw the guard holed up behind a log facing off against the old mine, the air sharp with discharged weapons and damp chips of wood. A part of Lou's mind reacted with horror as he saw them pull out a military green steel tube and pop up a view finder, and a part of Lou's mind realized he was already in action, racing low to the ground towards an unnoticed entrance where erosion had picked away at the side of the hill and the timbers of the mine.

Lou tucked and rolled into the darkness as the world behind him shattered into dust and noise.


	3. Salvation

Office Lou Garou opened one eye cautiously. He didn't have the headache that normally came with a hangover, but he definitely felt sore and battered like he had been into it heavy the night before. Golden light flickered across uneven walls and he wondered if he had left the television on. What had he gotten up to the night befo...

A heavy but kind hand settled onto his shoulder and it all came back in a flash. The mountain, the chase, the mine; the rocket. Lou turned and opened his other eye. Light from a makeshift torch jammed between stones flickered across the rough-hewn stone of the mine shaft, and across from him was -- a vision. Tousled hair that somehow still conveyed a sense of rugged style, full lips pouting against gleaming white teeth. Cheeks that hinted at a gentle smile even with a dead serious expression, and gleaming yellow eyes staring back into his. Lou felt his heart quicken even before he realized how unusual the eyes were.

"You shouldn't have followed" said Scott McCall. The dead stone walls dulled the timbre of his voice, leaving it deep and serious. "I'm the last of my pack. I ... didn't want to find someone to care for. I was ready to head north, into the wild."

Lou propped himself up on an unsteady arm and locked his gaze with the creature before him. "I think I knew the first time I saw you. I think I knew when you led Teasle up this hill, and sent him back down. But here, now... I know that I know. I had to follow."

McCall hunched down in a low crouch and gazed at Garou through the golden haze of the cave. "I should have considered the risk, of imprinting in human territories. But the chances of a new convert, still open and unattached -- and not even trained. What are the chances?" He pawed idly at the dust of the shaft floor with thick nails. "I was ready to leave the memories of my pack behind and go lone. I can feel the draw, but this can't"

Lou leaned forward and laid his land on McCalls, pressing his face forward. He could smell the drifters scent, the air that smelled of combat. He was conscious of his own heat permeating his shirt and jacket. His heart picked up yet again and he felt himself swell with excitement. When he leaned forward to press his lips against the outsider, they did not meet with resistance.  


* * *

  
If stones could blush, the thin stream running through the mine would have run red that day.

The kiss lasted a moment, but it seemed longer as Lou felt time slow down and his senses heighten. The pheromones in the air felt as thick as the dust from the explosion, and his skin grew tight across his body -- and tighter around his engorged cock. Even with his sharpened senses he was surprised by the speed with which McCall lunged, pinning him to the ground in one fluid motion. The hands around his wrists felt like steel manacles, and Lou found a moment to be amazed at how someone so strong could be so precise as to not cause any harm while pressing him down to the ground. When the drifter pressed lips against his neck and Lou felt a fang caress his jugular, a thin whine of submission and desire slipped past his lips.

McCall felt a familiar heat race through his veins as animal lust worked to overcome his conscious control. His claws punched past relaxed wrists into the packed earthen floor, and his spine arched as he started to shift. He could feel the pulse of the cop quicken under his jaw, and smell the desperate need of an imprinted bitch flood the stagnant air of the cave. He knew he could maintain some level of control, even if they were both past stopping this encounter. He would have to use it to ensure that this Lou Garou didn't cause either of them any harm in the throes of passion.

Lou felt his cock surge upwards against the fabric of his police uniform like never before, bulging with such force that he was amazed the fabric could hold. It felt twice his usual size, thick and heavy. Something in the air informed Lou to submit to the teeth against his neck, and when he started to struggle it was not to get away, but to twist his body and properly present himself. Lou let out a soft growl as he twisted his torso and thrust his hips, while being careful to rotate his wrists rather than press against the hands pinning him down. He felt the teeth leave his throat and looked up into yellow eyes that reflected an identical pair back at him.

McCall let go with one hand and kept enough pressure on the wrist to assert authority as the local pivoted beneath him, pulling his knees in and pressing his hips and ass expectantly upwards. Seams were popping on both of them as the transformation took hold, but Scott took care of the pants in two quick swipes, shredding the fabric with his claws while grazing the hide beneath just enough to reinforce his status. A thin scent of blood wafted through the air as the scratches healed over, leaving them both that much more excited. It was not Scotts first time as a sire, but after so long his cock felt swollen more than ever before, and even the turgid air of the mine was not hot enough for it. Precum poured from its tip. The time was now.

Lou had only instinct to guide him, as his skin shifted and grew, and his uniform fell into tatters. A heavy paw pressed against the back of his neck and he pressed his face to the earth, smelling the history of all the creatures of the cave that made this their home. Another paw steadied his hips, and he felt a hot and wet pressure against his ass. His own nails dug into the earth as the drifted pressed forward into him, and he felt his own cock swell and bob in the air as the one inside him grew even harder.

Scott pumped deep within the cop, excess fluid from his weeping cock gushing out of the hole each time he pulled back and running across the locals swollen balls as gravity took over. Already he could feel the pressure of the first orgasm growing, and he dropped his hand down around his hip to grasp the cock dangling below his partner. He timed his hand to mirror his thrusts, and breathed deeply of the scent saturating the air. It was not necessary that they cum together the first time, but he had been accused in the past of being a bit of a romantic.

Instinct took over.  


* * *

  
When all was said and done the earth was churned and soaked with their fluids, and the pair had retreated a few yards up the passage to recover.

"We were..." Lou began, not sure how to make a question out of something that was so obviously a fact.

"Wolves, yes" answered McCall. "You should have had a gentler introduction to your new nature, and curse whoever turned you for not doing a better job. Mating under the circumstances was... well, sometimes the instinct takes over. I should have known, with you so new. And without a pack, and no warning against imprinting..." he tailed off into silence. The torch dripped a whisper of pitch onto the stone below.

"You look human again" ventured Lou, reclined on the ground with an open posture. Even after so many positions and explosions his cock looked engorged, and a bead of moisture slowly rolled from the tip. "I'm still hairy."

Scott nodded, and it was true -- the cop was still clearly in full wolf from, a worrying development. "It is uncommon on a first mating but not impossible. You won't turn until they arrive."

Lou looked back, slow realization dawning as his hairy palm slid down to rest on a belly that suddenly felt taut. "You mean?"

"It'll be a new pack" answered McCall, and while he tried to sound tough an edge of tenderness undercut his terse summary. "This is my responsibility. I should never have started this war but... we'll ditch these two bit cops, we'll slip past the guard. We'll head north where the humans are scarce and make some territory. It'll all be"

And by this point he was cut off yet again as Lou pressed his lips forward to choke off the words.

They were past words anyways.


End file.
